Taunting Death
by Candlelight Coffee
Summary: Set in Season 3 after Chuck "trades" Blair for his hotel. Eventually Chuck/Blair. Rated M, will contain more M rated material in the future. Blair runs away from New York for the holidays, but when scandal follows her, she bites off more than she can chew
1. Join me in Death

**A/N: I have found some inspiration, and decided to write. Please be nice, as I am writing for the first time in 7 years (although I welcome NICE constructive criticism). Review if you like it 3**

**A LITTLE BACKSTORY: This story takes place in Season 3 of Gossip Girl. I don't actually have a set episode it picks up after, but just know that it takes place AFTER Chuck "trades" Blair for his hotel. So everything before that is cannon. Will eventually be a Chuck/Blair story, with maybe a bit of Serena/Nate thrown in (I haven't figured out what I am going to do with these two yet).**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned anything, I'd be a lot richer... but I don't.**

Blair loved this holiday. Thanksgiving. It was her favorite because of all the traditions she had with her father. She might have at one time resented him for his decision to move to France and leave her mother, but she realized long ago that he deserved happiness, and if that was with Ramon in France, then he deserved to be there.

She sighed and continued to look at herself in the full length mirror. The mirror was beautiful. It looked almost antique. It stood in the corner of her room, but even though it's place was off to the side she still couldn't hide from it.

Her eyes started to tear. Every time she thought of happiness her mind wandered to Chuck, and how she was alone. At least he had his hotel. It might have been the most aggressive and manipulative game they played, and she thought he was vile and low for putting his material things over her. But looking in the mirror, she was reminded that she was the one who was left with nothing, and he had a full staffed hotel. The only person who was left crushed was her.

She wiped a tear that had fallen down her cheek, and took a heavy breath. _No,_ she told her self sternly, _I may wallow in my self pity every other day, but not today. Not on my favorite holiday._

She was spending Thanksgiving with her father and Ramon in France. After what had happened she had to get out of New York and fast. She was running and she knew it. She didn't care that Chuck Bass had caused her to run like a sad puppy with it's tail between it's legs away from her own home.

"Blair, honey, you coming down to help me with this pie?" she faintly heard her father from the floor below her. She had to give her father props. He had created the perfect hideaway. The room he and Ramon had set up for her was perfect.

She managed a small smile at her only non blood relative she was in contact with. The orange cat that favored her and Ramon. "I guess Cat, time to stop wallowing and face the music." She patted the slightly overweight cat who sat in a bed right next to her mirror, and turned and left the room.

"What's this I hear about Pie?" she smiled sweetly masking the emotions that were tumbling around inside her only moments before.

"You, Princess, are late. Ramon and I have already started making the crust." Harold said. From the looks of things they had more than just started. They had made a small mess of flour all over the counter.

Harold might not have been the best father, and he knew that. He did leave Blair's mother, and his family behind in New York. He ran away with the young model Ramon to Europe. But he wasn't a bad father by any means. He knew that coming out to his daughter was one thing, but his daughter needed small doses of this giant change in his life. He knew Eleanor wouldn't be able to handle it either. So he decided to leave. It was the easy decision, sure, but it was the right one to make. He knew that his daughter needed a mother there more than a father, and so he was the one who decided to leave.

He was extremely happy to find out his daughter wanted to spend Thanksgiving with him and possibly the holiday break in December and January.

So he made sure her room was finished by then. Harold and Ramon spent days making sure everything was perfect. Their house was on the country side, next to a beautiful vineyard, and her room overlooked the grape fields of the property next door. In the mornings that she left her window open, she could smell the sweet scent of the grapes from the field below.

But this morning, all she could smell was the wonderful workings of a home cooked Thanksgiving meal. Well, almost home cooked. Her tradition was making the pie, not the entire meal of course. They had a chef do some of the cooking, but that never took away from the tradition of making the pumpkin pie with her father.

She smiled, and held back a small chuckle at Ramon and her father getting flour on his shirt from the mess on the counter. It had been a while since she smiled. Her father noticed her sadness and realized she was running away from something in New York, but he was so happy to have her in France for the holidays, that he didn't bring it up. He knew his daughter would come clean with why she was so far away from her home in time, but for now he was content with just enjoying her company and helping her forget what made her so sad.

Harold caught on to the smile. "Oh, so you think this mess is funny do you? You know it wouldn't have happened if you were down here to help," he joked. "I think it's time to even the score." He held up his hands and menacingly wiggled his flour covered fingers at his daughter.

Her eyes widened, and she lunged to the other side of the counter, placing the island counter top between her and her father. "Daddy I just got dressed, you are not about to get flour all over me."

"We will see about that!" Her father lunged around the island, determined to make a mess of his daughter.

Blair squealed and laughed. She attempted to run away but failed. Her father grabbed her around her waist, getting flour all over her dress. Even though Blair was a woman of fashion she didn't care. She was happy to be smiling again.

"Oh no you didn't," Blair said with her usual Waldorf attitude. She looked to the counter and saw the open bag of flour. She thought about dumping it on her fathers head, but she didn't want Dorota to get mad over the mess, so she simply stuck both of her hands into the bag, making sure every inch of her palms were covered in the thick powder. She chased her father into the foyer.

When she finally caught up with him, she playfully smacked him in the cheeks, leaving two white handprints on his face.

"Now that we are even, we can get back to the tradition of Waldorf Pumpkin Pie!" Harold announced, clearly waving the white flag and retreating from the flour war. Blair was already a mess, but she decided it was probably better to make the pie first and then go change.

She walked back into the kitchen and spotted Ramon clearly trying to read the recipe and continue with the task of the pie. She smiled at him and took her finger, and wiped a bit of flour on his nose. "You were too clean," she shrugged as if that was an excuse. She made her way to the sink and washed her hands.

"When is mom going to be here?" Blair asked. Ever since Ramon tried to set her mother up with someone, Eleanor didn't mind the company of her ex-husband and his life partner. She knew that they both cared about her happiness. It didn't work out of course, but she ended up in a happy relationship with Cyrus, and they were both flying in from New York for dinner so they could spend it as a family.

As if on cue her mother and Cyrus walked in with their hands full of luggage and Christmas presents. Blair was seriously considering hiding out here again during the Christmas break, but she knew her mother would probably spend it with Cyrus's family since she was spending Thanksgiving with Harold. So Eleanor had bags of presents, a few early ones for Blair, and some for Ramon and Harold as well. They would celebrate Christmas along with Thanksgiving.

"We are here!" Eleanor announced. Blair could already see the bag from Pierre Herme. She must have made a stop for Blair's favorite macaroons. Blair walked into the foyer, and gave her mom a kiss.

Just as Cyrus was wheeling in their luggage, the orange cat that Blair thought she left upstairs ran outside, right under Cyrus's feet.

She sighed and kissed him hello. "Don't worry I'll head out and grab him. You guys can get settled".

She ran out after the orange cat. "Cat! Come back here!" She watched the overweight cat run into the neighboring field. "For a fat, lazy animal you sure can run." she muttered to herself under her breath. She followed him.

The smell of grapes surrounded her. She went deeper into the field and continued to call out for the cat, hoping she would find him soon. The last thing she wanted was to get lost in her neighbors field. She looked up at the sky, noting the overcast clouds. It was going to rain soon.

The sweet smell was suddenly interrupted by a rotting odor. It was so potent Blair thought she might vomit. Her mouth started to water, and she could feel the bile rising in her throat. She coughed and tried to cover her mouth and nose with her cardigan, but the smell still made her dry heave.

Suddenly she saw the stout ginger animal just as he bounded further into the vineyard. She ran in the direction he went. Before she could get very far, something caught her foot, and she tripped and got a mouth full of dirt.

She thought she had simply tripped on her heels, but as she was rising she could see that she tripped over something else entirely.

She saw someone lying on the ground, with sickly green skin, on her side with her face away. Blair once again tried to swallow the chunks rising in her throat. She slowly got up and walked around so she could get a better look at who this person was, or what had happened. She knew she should probably get help, but she couldn't move her eyes off of the lifeless form in the dirt.

She saw the face. She would never forget it. It was forever etched in her mind. She could see now that she was standing in front of the body, that it had an open would in its abdomen, with thousands of maggots crawling around inside it. They were mindlessly gnawing away at her once porcelain flesh. The long auburn hair, was now stringy and greasy. Her eyes that were once a piercing light blue, now looked like a sickened grey. Her eyes were open an glossed over. Even though her skin was a yellowed and green from decay, Blair could make out the purple bruise around the girl's neck.

Blair's shrill scream echoed all the way back to her fathers house.

She might not have liked Georgina, but she wouldn't have wished this fate on anyone.


	2. Unpretty

**A LITTLE BACKSTORY: This story takes place in Season 3 of Gossip Girl. I don't actually have a set episode it picks up after, but just know that it takes place AFTER Chuck "trades" Blair for his hotel. So everything before that is cannon. Will eventually be a Chuck/Blair story, with maybe a bit of Serena/Nate thrown in (I haven't figured out what I am going to do with these two yet).**

**DISCLAIMER: If I owned anything, I'd use it to find Ed Westwick and never let him go.  
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**A/N: I feel I should warn you, this one gets a bit graphic. Not going to go into detail, you'll have to read it to understand what I am talking about. But it is rated M for a reason, and this is your warning. Turn away if you don't like the graphic angst that is to come.**

**Also probably should have mentioned this in the first chapter, but I currently don't have a beta so please excuse any grammatical errors. If you are interested in being a Beta, feel free to PM me, as I am sure I need one, I am just too lazy to actually look for one =)**

Blair sat on the bed in her room. She could hear the commotion downstairs. After she literally stumbled upon the lifeless body of Georgina everything was a blur.

She could hear the stampede of feet heading her way from the back door of her father's house. She could hear everyone calling out her name in the distance, but they sounded so far away. She couldn't focus on the sounds she heard yelling. She couldn't focus on anything except those lifeless, dull, grey eyes peering at her.

She suddenly felt like she should close Georgina's eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to touch the body. She finally tore her eyes away from Georgina's face, and her eyes landed on the next worst thing in sight. The open wound protruding from her abdomen, and the maggots squirming inside her in a frenzy.

Suddenly she couldn't keep it inside anymore. She could feel herself heaving. She dropped to her knees and emptied the contents of her stomach in the dirt. She could feel her eyes watering from throwing up and from the potent odor coming from the body. She had to get away but her feet wouldn't cooperate with her brain. She just sat there with wide eyes staring at the scene in front of her.

Harold was the first to find her, staring like she was dazed at the corpse. Tears were running down her face now, but she was too shocked to actually weep or sob. Her breathing was heavy, like she was running and couldn't catch her breath.

"Blair…." Harold coaxed, but Blair made no move that she actually heard him. He said her name a little louder and Blair jumped in surprise.

"Daddy?" She looked up at him from her position on the ground. He could see his little girl inside her. She looked frail. She looked like her world was shattered into a million pieces.

"Blair, let's get you inside." Harold was at a loss for words. He almost said that everything was going to be okay, but he decided he couldn't say that. He couldn't lie to his daughter, and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn't okay.

She didn't register what he said. She just sat there. When he said her name, she looked up at him for a second, but after that it was almost as if she was looking past him. She made no effort to move. He tried again. "Blair, please… let's go back inside and call the police." He held out his hand to her. She blinked and looked almost catatonic.

Finally he gave up on trying to get her to move, but he wasn't going to let his only daughter sit by the foul smelling corpse until the police arrived, and he wasn't about to leave her there to call them. So he did what any father in his position would do. He slid one hand under her knees and used the other to support her back and carried her back to their own property.

He could see Ramon, Eleanor, and Cyrus searching the land for Blair. "I've found her…" he called out.

Eleanor's face was covered in worry. She saw the look on her daughters face. "What… What happened?" She asked.

Blair could faintly make out the sounds of the voices around her, but she couldn't focus in on what they were saying even though they were almost surrounding her. They sounded far away.

She faintly remembered her father bringing her to her room, where she sat on the edge of her bed with her hands folded in her lap. No matter where she sat she knew she wouldn't be able to run from the antique mirror in the corner of her room.

She felt like it mocked her. She might not have liked Georgina by any means, in fact the relationship they had bordered on hate. But she couldn't deny the similarities between her and her rival. They both were borderline masochists, getting involved with games to keep from getting bored, and ultimately hurting the people they only desired to be close to.

Suddenly Blair felt the panic inside her rise. What game had Georgina been playing that got her murdered? Had she known she was playing with fire? The only person who could compare to her in the mind game department winded up dead, less than a mile from where she was. She wasn't even at home, she was half way around the world from her home in New York. How could this be just some strange cruel coincidence? If Georgina was playing with fire, knowingly or not, how long would it take for the queen herself to fall to the same fate? She felt her chest tighten in fear.

She felt like she was out of control in her own life. Georgina's fate had been decided for her, and the resemblance between Georgina and herself, caused her to wonder if she was destined for the same fate. Would it be decided for her when she would die? Would she get caught up in some plot that would take her life too? Blair recognized this feeling and was disgusted. She was queen of the Upper East Side, how could she not be in control of her own life?

In a catatonic state, she could feel her legs taking her downstairs to the kitchen. The smell of Thanksgiving dinner still filled the house. She could make out her family in the drawing room talking to the police men about the events that happened in the field.

She found what she was looking for. The pumpkin pie sat on the counter. Ramon must have finished making it before…

She found herself looking straight into Georgina's dead, lifeless eyes in her mind. Before she realized what she was doing she grabbed the pie, and a fork, and walked upstairs back to her dark room. No one in the family room had even heard her.

The panic and fear about ending up like Georgina had caused a void inside her usually powerful, strong willed façade. She wouldn't let everything be decided for her. She picked up the fork and began eating. The food comforted her, it reminded her that at least she was in control of something.

Before she knew it, the entire pie was gorged, and the disgusting feeling returned to her. Sure, she was in control for the few minutes she ate, but controlling only something so miniscule as her eating habits made her feel weak again.

She moved to her window, and looked out. She could make out the crime scene below. The field had been blocked off with yellow police tape. It was getting dark outside, which only amplified the blue and red lights of the ambulance and multiple police cars. The bright white flash of the forensic photographer was unmistakable. She was almost happy that the thick vines of the grape field obscured her view of the corpse, until she saw two paramedics bringing out a stretcher. She watched them as they brought it in to the field, and seconds later bring it out again only to have a body with a white sheet on it.

Blair might have been avoiding the mirror in the corner of her room, but her reflection in the glass of her bedroom window was suddenly blocking everything that was going on outside.

She felt the weight of the pumpkin pie in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't look at herself anymore. She was revolted at her own need for control and comfort when a murder had been freshly committed only feet away from where she slept. She had an impulse to remove all of the evidence of her binge eating.

She felt herself back away from the window and found the empty aluminum pie tin. She grabbed it and shoved it under her bed. Out of sight out of mind. Before she knew it, her legs were taking her to the bathroom. Her legs gave out in front of the toilet. She pressed her fingers to the back of her throat as far as they would go, triggering her gag reflex. She could feel the bile rise for the second time that day, and for a few seconds she felt better.

As she emptied her stomach in the toilet, she knew that she was letting Serena and her family down by giving in to these urges, but she couldn't stop until her stomach was empty. So she did it again. Vomit dripped down from her fingers, and tears caught in the corner of her eyes from the strain of inducing her own sickness. She could still feel something inside her stomach, so she did it a third time, before being overcome by the pain in her abdominal muscles. She was finally satisfied when her vomit came out clear, it was the evidence that everything she had gorged on was out of her system.

She used the toilet seat to help lift herself off the floor, and then she flushed the toilet. Her eyes avoided the bathroom mirror as she washed her hands and brushed her teeth. Finally all the evidence of her purge was removed and she detached herself from everything, and found herself sitting back on her bed as her father left her earlier.

She was lost in her own thoughts again when she heard a light tap on her door. "Blair…" Ramon called from the other side. When Blair didn't respond, he slowly turned the knob. He knew he probably shouldn't be walking in to her room without an invite, but remembering the state Blair was in before he knew she wouldn't answer even if she did hear him. So he walked in, with the orange cat in hand.

"The police want to talk to you honey, about that woman."

Blair slowly rose from the bed. "Her name is Georgina." She walked back downstairs to give the police her statement.

**A/N: I promise Chuck is coming soon. In the next chapter possibly. I wanted this story to actually have a plot, and with that comes chapters without our beloved duo. I didn't want this story to be only full of lemons and fluff. I noticed some have reviewed and some have put it on watch, thanks. Even if you don't review I know you like it enough to wait for another installment. I am trying to take my time with the setup, but I also realize that people want Chuck, so I am torn between taking my time and rushing the Chuck.  
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